


Oil on Canvas

by Irrationalix



Category: Attack on Titan, Shingeki no Kyojin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, M/M, POV First Person, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2018-01-01 01:45:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irrationalix/pseuds/Irrationalix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who would have thought Eren'd feel that way after a school trip to a museum... It was just a painting, right? Then why did he feel so empty, why did he feel like he needed to find answers? And why did he feel so safe near that stupid art student who came to the gallery everyday?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oil on Canvas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rivaillin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivaillin/gifts).



> 'kay, first time I ever write fanfic. Also first time I ever write in english, so excuse me and please tell me if you see any mistake or whatever. I wrote this reincarnation shit on my phone at 3 AM inspired by the beautiful song "Iris" by Goo Goo Dolls, so expect failures. And google the song if you don't know about it. It's godly.  
> Also, I gotta thank Cathe, for encouraging me to upload stuff, and basically introducing me into le stuff lol. Thank you for telling me about shingeki, about fics, and ruining my life~ 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this little story!

"I went there every day. I went there every day after school. I went there so many times that the guards of the door already knew me, they just let me through the door without paying the ticket. They knew that I'd stay there just for a while and then I'd run away trembling. It always happened. It always happened since the first time I saw the painting during a school trip to the national museum.

Yeah. I'd always remember that Jean cunt laughing at me because I almost start crying there. I also remember being suspended more than a week for hitting him, week that I spent in the museum, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with me. But I couldn't. And then I started to run away to that place everyday just to see the painting.

Oil on canvas, stuck on a wall. Some if my friends thought I was crazy, others said I was strong-willed. I didn't care. I could break their asses easily. It wasn't a big deal. I just wanted to be able to see that majestic drawing. "The Lance Corporal" was the title, painted by an old artist who lived during the period of the humanity wars. During the period of the walls. And the most I watched the picture the most related to it I felt. I memorized every trace the paint left on the canvas, the strong expression, the furred eyebrows and the gaze, full of power, like a beautiful animal ready to jump to devour you. I felt so close to the unknown corporal, I felt so amazed, so attached to the painting... And so frustrated. Why feeling this way? Why wanting to know more about some black haired guy in a picture? I needed to know.

And like so I started to research information. I learnt that a man called Erwin Smith had painted the picture. That he was a commander during the past wars and he had used some subordinate as a model. I learnt that the picture was painted as a memorial to his fellow, who died protecting an especial soldier who had the key to the humankind's victory. I also learnt that the man in the picture's name was unknown. He was the Lance Corporal and he died protecting some brat. That was, summing up, all that I had guessed. Others would probably give up at that point, but I kept going to the museum, like if watching the picture would give me an explanation of why I felt the way I did or more information about the model.

That was bullshit.

But I thank god or whoever is up there for making me perseverant. And I'll thank them a thousand times because thanks to that I was able to meet you.

I remember I was there, staring at the picture like I always did, when you came into the room. And I swear to god my heart skipped a beat. Why did I feel so happy to see you? So relieved… like if some burden was took off my shoulders. So glad you were alive, but overall, so amazed that you looked almost the same as the Lance Corporal. I couldn't help but stare at you with some dumbass expression, while I felt tears coming to my eyes. And of course you noticed. And you let me know.

"What? Do I have something on my face, you fucking brat?" In a complete different situation, with a complete different person, in a complete different place I'd probably tried to hit you. But instead of feeling angry I felt like I finally belonged somewhere. "N-no." I answered, blushing so hard. "I'm just... You look like him". I pointed at the painting. You looked directly at me and didn't say a word. I remember going back the next day and finding you there, with a huge block, hands moving with surgeon precision. We didn't cross a word that day, or the following ones. You kept drawing, I kept staring the picture. The picture and the living Lance Corporal that was by my side. Awkward silences that you filled some day when you asked me "What are you, some masterpieces stalker? If you have the need of stalking someone at least go and stalk a living one, dammit". Your words hit right in my core and I didn’t know why but I was explaining you how related I felt to that picture from the moment I saw it. You kept silent for a moment, just raised an eyebrow and answered "Levi. Though I sign my stuff as 'Rivaille', sounds more professional. I'm majoring in art. And who the fuck are you, canvastalker?"

"Eren" I answered almost instantaneously, and then I felt words rushing outside my mouth "That painting should be called Lance Corporal Rivaille. You look like him." I remember you just returned your gaze down to your block as you kept on drawing.

We spent another week without crossing words. You kept on going there to complete the drawing of the Corporal; I kept on going not to watch the paint, but for watching you. I didn’t feel related to the picture anymore. It was like some kind of mysterious force made me want to know more about you. And like so I started to talk to you. You told me how asshole I was for interrupting you, but still you answered my questions; we started to share pieces of our stories. And one day you told me that you were almost done with the painting and I suddenly felt so lonely, I suddenly felt the urge of telling you that I felt so related to you, so happy to be by your side... Honestly, I thought you'd raise an eyebrow, scold me, and then go back to your drawing. But you didn't. You told me "Well yeah, brat, I also feel kind of close to you. It's a shame that I'm almost done with the picture. Say, first thing you told me was that I looked like the Corporal. Then you told me the whole fucking life story of that man, and you said he died protecting some kind of brat. Well if the brat was as shitty as you I'd probably die for you as well. It'd be such a shame that someone that can blush to a tomato shade of red in a matter of seconds died, it'd really be". And I felt an overwhelming happiness when you said that.

We spent two more days together and then you finished the picture. You stepped up and showed it to me for the first time. It was beautiful, perfect, but it wasn't right. Because you hadn’t drawn the Corporal, you drew a soldier version of me. I asked you why and you told me "Well, if I'm the corporal, you're the brat. I can come here and see my alter ego every time I want; you should be able to do the same, kid". And I felt tears streaming down my face. Why did you care so much?

 "You know? I felt happy when I saw you the first time, relieved because you were alive and I thought why are you glad that some prick is alive? I still don't know, but I couldn't give less of a fuck. I want you to be happy, I want you to have this picture and I want you to want me". Like so you came closer to me and you handed me the picture and when touched the paper you pulled me closer to kiss me. I felt your warm lips against mine and I felt my vision going dizzy for a moment. "I'm leaving to France for a year" you said. "But if you wait for me, I'm fucking coming back to you, brat."

I couldn’t help but silently nod. Of course I was going to wait for you. You finally, since my mother died, made me feel like I belonged somewhere, made me feel complete. And I thank god for the choice I made. Because you came back a year later, and I spent the most wonderful years of my life with you, I lived a lot of new experiences; I learnt a lot of new things...

That's why that day during the trip to the mountain I acted the way I did. Because that traitor stone moved out of place and I saw you falling. But you are so precious to die. You couldn't die.

And I held you, I pulled you back to the path, and I fell.

I will always remember the way you called me. I remember the mess of lights and sounds surrounding me, I will always remember you by my side, whispering not to abandon you, whispering that you loved me.

I'm sorry I betrayed you.

But, you know? I'm almost certain that you were that Corporal. And I'm almost certain that I was the shitty brat. Once you died for me, so why not doing the same? I finally understood why you risked your life and gave it for me that time, because when you've finally found someone as bright as you, you just want them to be alive no matter what, so people can see the beauty you see in them.

I have no idea if these words will ever reach you, but you can be certain that I'll be back to you. I'll reincarnate. You will do the same. And we'll be together once again.

Because I love you and I'm yours.

Thank you, Lance Corporal Rivaille".

**Author's Note:**

> (http://static.tumblr.com/e43e0b906a684be09ced5b728df658ef/hbf6fk5/RGQmu9776/tumblr_static_tumblr_static_tumblr_mt3b20kvzl1synhv1o1_500.jpg)  
> I imagine the painting like that or something.  
> AND SORRY FOR THE SAD ENDING! At least we know they'll meet in a different life and they'll be happy together and live a shitton of years!
> 
> Anyway, Thank you for reading -bows-


End file.
